Darling
by Wutruffbeest
Summary: Brought in under false pretenses, a medical consultant discovers one of the patients has decided to make her his wife.
1. Chapter 1

The last thing she could remember, remember _clearly_, was how everyone had looked at her when she'd arrived on site. She hadn't been able to place it at first, but as she read case files and realized just what she'd signed up for, she'd come to a grim and terrible understanding: she was a dead woman walking, in their eyes. Some weren't all right with it. Some were. Jennifer just focused on the task at hand. She remembered being very focused. Terrified, but confident she could solve the problem, the phantom pregnancies that ended in fatal miscarriages.

Things became murky, after that. She had been drugged, and men had talked over her like her situation was a bland one. Routine_. Just like all the others_, someone had sighed. _At least this one will be easy to cover up_, another added. Jen remembered some excitement, at some point, some kind of uproar. Someone was haemorrhaging. Someone's blood pressure was falling dangerously low.

_It's me_, she had thought. Or she had some echo of a memory of thinking that, _It's me. I'm dying_.

Then nothing. Until now, or whatever counted for immediacy in her groggy state. Someone was talking to her. A radio? A television? Had she survived? She'd be the first one to do so, but someone else would be running tests.

"...darling? Oh, my darling, have my prayers been answered!?"

God, what was on the TV? Some kind of terrible soap. What clever misogynist had decided to put that on TV in the female ward? Her thoughts were becoming more ordered, and her brain started to spider out, letting in more stimuli. There was pressure on her hand, warmth. Someone was holding it. _Squeezing_ it. Jen tried to pull her hand away – what sort of creepy shit was holding her hand? – but found she couldn't move it. Panic seized her. Had she lost control of her limbs? Oh, God, what was wrong?

Her eyes fluttered open, squinting slightly as she expected bright lights, but it was very dim in the ward. Gloomy, even. The only light was filtering in through a heavily curtained window. Dust motes danced overhead. She made to look down at her arms, but she was interrupted by a diseased face. It was grinning at her, and bloody tears had streaked it's cheeks. Jen tried to scream, but nothing but a hoarse squeak came out.

"Shh, there, there, my sweet," the sick man sighed, stroking her hair away from her forehead. His skin was hot, feverish, and the texture of it suggested whatever was wrong with his face had spread all over, "You've been through _so much_. But I'm here now! We're _together_. Oh, I was so_worried_ for you, Jenny!"

He knew her name. Jesus fuck this thing knew her name. How!? Her chart. Her chart would have her name on it. What the fuck was wrong with him? Was it contagious? She strained weakly at what she had to assume were restraints. Jennifer would've looked but her eyes were riveted to the man acting like they were lovers. He had an overpowering smell, like he'd dumped a bottle of Old Spice on himself, and there was a wilted flower jammed into his front pocket. What the fuck? What the _fuck_? What _was_ this? Was his hair slicked back, too? Was he wearing a _suit_?

Jennifer tried to vocalize something, anything, but only a strained croak came out. The man chuckled indulgently and sighed.

"You poor thing," he said, "You must be so thirsty – so hungry! Don't worry, my darling. I'll take care of you."

He gave her hand a too-familiar squeeze and got up, presumably to get her water, and she looked down at herself. The sheets covering her were grimy, but not bloody, and the leather straps restraining her were only on her ankles and her wrists. She was too weak to do what her brain was demanding she do, but it looked like they would've been too tight for her to pull free of even if she'd been at full strength. How long had she been out? What the fuck was going on? Why were the curtains all pulled around where she remembered other patients being? It was too dark to make out much, and the angle she was forced into made it impossible for her to sit up and try to get a better look. Jenny wasn't even sure she had it in her to sit up. Maybe a few days? A week at the absolute most. The IVs had been removed from her arms, she realized, the machines no longer humming and beeping and keeping an eye on her. An awful chill seized her. Had this man done that? The bandage over where her IVs had been was amateur at best. The word _infection_ lay over her mind like a suffocating blanket. Would angry red patches be crawling out from under the bandage soon? Was it on her face already?

That seemed like the least of her worries. What was wrong with that man? Aside from being out of his fucking mind, some kind of aggressive disease was working him over.

What the fuck had happened while she had been unconscious?

He returned and she went very still, forcing herself to look at him even though it was very, very hard to look at his face and his hideous, toothy smile. The worst part was that his teeth were white and even and clean. He was insane, clearly, but not enough to let his hygiene suffer, which spoke to a terrifying higher functioning, a terrible lucidity. Gently, he helped her sit up (as much as the restraints would allow) and held water to her lips. It was cold and despite herself, she took a greedy gulp. He chuckled and pulled it away, tsk-tsking her.

"Little sips," he said, "We don't want you getting sick."

Jennifer took little sips, and once he'd eased her head back down she cleared her throat a few times while he clasped one of her hands in his own. God, he was burning up. It made her skin crawl.

"Who...?" she managed, figuring she'd start small. Something unspeakably ugly passed behind his eyes, something angry.

"Oh, you poor girl," he said, sounding morose, maybe even a little watery. He had wiped away the bloody tears when he'd gone to get her water, and his hands were clean. How... considerate? "Don't you remember your own fiancé? It's me, darling. It's Eddie."

Oh, what the fuck was _this_ now? _Fiancé_? Something about his expression kept her from scoffing. His expression, and the way his hands started to crush hers a little. He was a large man, and his hands dwarfed hers. He could probably break all the bones in her hand if he wanted.

"_Eddie_," she repeated, her voice still hoarse, but more from lack of use, "Eddie how... what's... happening?"

Was that even his real fucking name? His grip on her hand relaxed, but Jenny didn't relax. What the fuck was he going to do to her?

"Don't you worry your pretty head about all of that, darling," he crooned, stroking her hair again, "Everything's going to be all right. _Better_ than all right. Now that you're awake, we can finally get married and start our family."

His eyes had a shiny, dreamy quality, and he was gazing at her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered. In another circumstance, Jenny might be flattered or charmed, but given her current situation? Jenny felt dread lurch in her belly and tears started to roll down her cheeks. Oh, Jesus, oh God, he was going to rape her and he'd invented some sick fantasy to justify it.

"Oh, I'm happy as you are, darling!" Eddie laughed, wiping the tears away, "I'm so glad you are, too! No more tears, now. Rest, and I'll try to find you something to eat."

He stood, but paused to bend over and kiss her forehead. His breath had an awful metallic smell, and it lingered even after he left, singing to himself. Jennifer tried not to panic. He'd obviously constructed some kind of insane fantasy about the two of them, some means of making sense of whatever had happened. Playing into it could either be her way out, or it could make things much, much worse. Her first step was getting out her restraints, and Jenny couldn't help but assume on some level, he knew she would run if given a chance. When she'd threatened his fantasy by not knowing his name, he'd tipped his hand. He was more aware of what he was doing than he let on, but it was possible his connection with reality would be gone soon. She needed to get away before that happened. Before he did... god, before he did what he was clearly planning to do.

She tried not to panic, but panic gripped her and she struggled wildly, screaming and howling. She'd just come in to consult! To help people! To help women who'd suffered from some terrible epidemic of phantom pregnancy. This wasn't fucking fair. She shouldn't be dealing with this. She was respected in her field. She was going to take an amazing, year long vacation with the salary she was going to earn from this job. A salary, she had to assume, they'd never intended on having to pay her. Sick _fucks_.

"There, there, dear," she hadn't heard him come back, but his feverish hands were on her shoulders, his brow knit with concern, "I know you're feeling a little disoriented—"

"Let me go!" she shouted at him. An allergic reaction. That was what it looked like. He'd had some kind of allergic reaction, and the hives had started to take on a life of their own, "This is insane_! This is fucking nuts_!"

The ugly look slipped behind his eyes, and his hands moved from her shoulders to her throat. Not firm enough to exert strangling pressure, _yet_, but the threat was clear.

"You're hysterical, my love," he said, "I _hate_ hearing such _vulgar_ things coming out of your mouth. I won't have the mother of my children talking that way. Everything is exactly as it should be, Jenny, my darling. I know it's the burden of the fairer sex, to be so emotional, but you really must make an effort to contain your outbursts."

His hands around her throat had served to calm her, but her breath was short and panicked, her eyes so wide she imagined he could see more white than anything else.

"You should apologise," he said. Jennifer stared blankly at him until she felt his hands tighten. Just slightly. Just enough.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," Jenny said, "I'm sorry I... I'm just so confused. And scared."

He studied her face, studied it for too long, but he did finally release her throat. Eddie patted her on the head, the action so incredibly condescending Jennifer wasn't even sure how to process it.

"You just let me take care of things," he said, "I'm going to take _such_ good care of you, Jenny. You and our beautiful children."


	2. Chapter 2

Eddie left her again, pausing in the doorway to see if she was going to lose it a second time before finally excusing himself. Jenny felt the panic return, but she swallowed any screams and tried to focus the energy, rotating her right wrist, trying to work it free. If she could just get one hand free, she could probably undo the other straps. Her mind was not cooperating with her. Even as she tried to work herself free, she kept thinking about other things. How long she'd been here, how her bed wasn't soiled. Had it only been a few hours, or had he cleaned up after her while she'd been out? He'd removed her IVs. What else had he done? Had she even been wearing this particular hospital gown when she'd gone under?

She couldn't remember. She also couldn't remember if there was a snack machine or a cafeteria on this floor, or even in this wing. It had been all men when she'd arrived, all men and just these few women shunted off into one room. The rest had died. She'd been assured they'd contained the problem, but now Jenny wasn't sure what to believe.

"Come on," she hissed, "Come on! _Fuck_."

The skin was starting to redden and chafe. He'd cinched the restraints tight, just shy of too-tight, and she wasn't getting them off unless she peeled off some skin, too. Maybe if she had the wherewithal (or know-how) to break or dislocate her thumb but... what good would that do her when she went to undo the other three straps? Jenny threw her head back and stared up at the ceiling, struggling to keep her shit together. She was strapped to a table, and that fucking guy was saying all kinds of crazy shit. If he would just take off the restraints, she might be able to get to a phone, or to security – somebody, _anybody_. _Nobody_ could be worse than _this_.

When the door creaked Jenny's entire body went rigid. Back already? Or maybe it hadn't been that long. The gloomy light filtering in through the window hadn't changed very much. Maybe there wasn't food. Maybe he had just gone to get a knife or who the fuck knew what else.

It was worse than that. Two men. Two naked men, their faces almost identical, flanked the bed. The one tilted his head, while the other was completely motionless. They had knives. Long, wicked knives. And they were staring at her. Jenny was vaguely aware of soiling herself. This was it. She was going to die.

"She's afraid."

"She shouldn't be here."

"Should we help?"

"Do you think that is wise?"

"Wisdom doesn't seem prudent in this situation. You know what he'll do."

"What does Father Martin say?"

"On this subject? Nothing."

"We can use our own judgement, then."

"Yes."

They exchanged looks and Jenny tried to say something. Only a squeak came out. Maybe it would be better to die. She wouldn't find out for herself what had really killed the women of Mount Massive. She wouldn't 'marry' a madman and 'have his children'. Would it be fast? God, she hoped so.

The man with more hair on his head raised his knife and Jenny squeezed her eyes shut, but the blow she was expecting never came. Instead she felt pressure and movement on her wrist, and when she peeped one eye open, she saw that he was sawing through the restraint. His companion watched him, his expression inscrutable.

"Are you certain?"

"She shouldn't be here."

"Ah, but she is."

There was a beat of silence and Jenny flexed her shaking hand, the skin of her wrist red from when she'd tried to work it free. She was too afraid to move. Their conversation was so... _droll_, so _quiet_, she wondered if maybe she was hallucinating.

"She at least deserves a chance to run."

"We're far more sporting than Gluskin."

"Do you want to kill her?"

"No. Not her."

"I feel the same."

"We may be the only ones."

Their eyes fell on her, and she was glad she'd only had a bladder to void. Something about the two of them staring her down turned her blood into ice water.

"He won't be gone long."

"You should at least try."

Jenny swallowed, or tried to swallow, and fell on her left wrist like a madwoman, the adrenaline surging through her body turning all her fingers into thumbs. She tore the left restraint free with a strangled cry and worked on her ankles, ignoring how her vision went briefly grey around the edges when she sat up. She could feel a chill along her spine, too. Her gown wasn't cinched up in the back.

When her legs were free she slid off the bed and they almost crumpled under her. The two men made no move to help her, and they had stopped talking, reinforcing her worry that they weren't real. They only watched as she regained her footing, her gown nearly sliding forward off her shoulders. Jenny staggered over to where another cot would be and yanked the curtain back, needing to see for herself what was being hidden from her.

An empty bed. There was blood smeared on the dormant heart monitor, but the bed was empty. Nevermind_, fuck it_. She staggered over to a cupboard and quickly changed into some scrubs that were two sizes too big for her, her brief nudity hardly a matter of concern. Jenny staggered over to the door and turned to look at the two men.

"Run," the mostly bald man suggested.

She slipped out the door, their conversation trailing after her.

"Do you think she'll make it?"

"No."

The hallway was even gloomier than the room had been, with no windows to let even the dimmest light slither in. All she had to guide her was light from underneath doors. Her feet were bare and her heart was hammering, hammering so loudly she was sure they could hear it a state over. God, wouldn't that be a blessing? She couldn't be the only person here who wasn't insane or... or _mutated_. The word felt like science fiction, but how else could it be explained? Eddie, and those two men... they were human, but they weren't. And what was it about what was happening that excluded women? Or that made it worse for them?

None of that fucking mattered, did it? What mattered was getting out. She tripped over something and let out a quite yelp, covering her mouth with one hand and steadying herself on the wall with the other. The wall was sticky. Her feet were wet.

_Don't think about it_, she coached herself, _Don't_ _think about it, it doesn't matter. Get out, get out_.

She reached a stairwell, only knowing what it was because of a flickering emergency light over the stairwell sign. Yes. Thank god. She could head down to the main floor and get out. Easy. Jenny grabbed the handle and yanked it harder than she'd intended. When the door didn't budge, she wasn't anticipating it, and she nearly pitched backwards, grabbing onto the handle with both hands.

"No," she breathed, "No, no, _no_."

Yanking on it just made loud clunking noises. Who the fuck locked a stairwell!? Wasn't that illegal!? A weird laughed tore out of her throat before she could stop it, the absurdity of her thoughts sending her sanity scrabbling for purchase. If anything even remotely legal happened here, she would be shocked.

The stairwell was out, so she moved on. There had to be another way. She couldn't be trapped. She had a chance, and she was going to make it. She was going to make it and she'd get her promised salary and more from court and from the fucking book she was going to write about this. Though petty, those thoughts gave her power, and she continued along, her fingers trailing along the wall as she stepped carefully forward.

Behind her, there was a blood curdling shriek, and then yelling. _Eddie_.

"You ungrateful whore!" she could hear him yell. It seemed like he was filling the hallway and she moved faster, "You're like all the others, aren't you? You fucking slut! _Slut_! Where are you!?"

There were crashing noises as he, presumably, started to tear apart the room. That room didn't have many places to hide, and he hadn't been gone that long. Jenny broke into a run, her eyes adjusted enough to the gloom that she thought she could see an intersection of hallways. She took a left and slammed her shoulder against a corner, but she didn't dare cry out, simply sucking in a deep breath and pressing onwards.

She could hear quick, heavy footsteps, but she couldn't tell if they were coming towards her, or going in the opposite direction. Better to assume the worst. Despite the gloom she broke into a sprint, aiming for a lit crack of a door some ways down. So much light could only mean an open window. She'd jump out a fucking window and break her legs before she let that psycho catch her.

Jenny was at the door and she tore it open, slamming it shut behind her before she could stop herself.

"I know you're here, you stupid bitch!" she heard him bellow, "I'll break your fucking legs, you half-smart cunt! How _dare_ you leave me!"

It was just vulgar words, but the way they contrasted with his dreamy, tearful behaviour earlier was really, really eating at her. And the light in the room wasn't a window. It was two soda machines, humming dully. She started to laugh, or cry, but she wasn't done yet. Maybe there were no windows, but he hadn't found her yet. He didn't know exactly where she was.

Jenny heard a door get kicked in, wood splintering, and the sounds of Eddie tearing apart another room were starting to tear at her insides. Think Jenny, think. _Hide_.

She looked up and saw a vent. The vents were large. Large enough for a small person, probably. It was stupid, but Jenny didn't give a fuck. She wasn't giving up, not yet. Not when she could still run. Jenny grabbed the vent and yanked, and it gave so easily she fell off her chair, the metal legs clattering.

Eddie's tantrum stopped suddenly, and she could easily visualize him tilting his head, listening for more. Holding her breath, Jenny ignored her scraped up limbs and set the vent aside, righting the chair. Carefully, carefully. He was too big to fit in the vents. His shoulders alone wouldn't allow him to squeeze in. She would be safe. She could get away.

Footsteps. Another door opened, softly this time. That she could hear it at all told her that he was too close, and she tried to haul herself up into the vent. Jenny regretted every day she skipped at the gym, and every second she struggled to lift herself up was a knife in her heart, but finally, finally she dragged herself up into the vent. Right as the door opened. She imagined he saw her legs tuck up, could hear the vent flex under her weight, not to mention the torn off vent cover and the chair.

"You think you can hide from _me_, you dumb _slut_?" he snarled. Jenny scrabbled forward, his hand looking ghoulish as it shot through the opening to grab her, "You fucking whore! Get back here! Get back here so I can teach you a fucking lesson!"

She shrieked when the vent buckled up – was he _punching_ it!? – and scrambled forwards blindly, not caring if she fell down or hit a dead end. Jenny just needed to get _away_.

"_SLUT_!" he was shrieking, mad with rage, and she heard him pounding his fists against the wall. The wall, not the vent – he couldn't get to her. She was safe. _Safe_. Jenny started to laugh, but it strangled off into strained sobs and she wiped at her face with shaking hands. It was pitch black in the vents and she wasn't entirely sure where she was. He'd been angry, which meant he couldn't get to her, but how long would that last?

Eddie had taken her escape rather _personally_, all told.

"Fuck you, Eddie," she said to no one. If felt good to say it, even if he couldn't hear. Jenny took a moment to catch her breath, to feel herself, checking for anything out of place. Checking for raised skin, for hives. Everything was in order except for the scrapes she'd gotten from falling off the chair. Those would be fine. She'd be fine. She could be anywhere, now, as far as Eddie knew. Anywhere and nowhere.

"Schrödinger's slut," Jenny muttered to herself. She started to giggle and clapped a hand over her mouth, brows drawing together. She had to get out. This place was wearing her down.


	3. Chapter 3

For all Jenny knew she was going in circles. Her entire body ached, and she kept hearing awful, awful things. The darkness had begun to press in on her, heavy and oppressive, and she knew if she didn't get out of the vents soon she would go insane. More insane? No, she was confident she still had her sanity. It had taken a beating, but she was all there. Everything present and accounted for and aimed at getting out. God, if she could just find a flashlight or a phone, something with a light on it, it would dramatically improve her situation.

Until then, she relied on exterior light. Light that would likely be leaving soon. She didn't know what time she'd woken up, but it would get dark eventually, and she didn't fancy being holed up in an asylum with spotty power and no light source. There was something up ahead. Daylight or vending machine? Impossible to say. Everything looked like daylight compared to the darkness. She crawled up to the grate, squinting, and saw it was daylight. Daylight spilling in through a window in an office. Fading daylight, but that was better than nothing. Despite having an obvious place to exit, she didn't move. She'd been safe in the vents. Cramped and blind, but safe. Anything could happen if she left. The fear that seized her made her heart race and her throat close up, but she couldn't stay in the vents forever. Something was wrong here, something contagious, and it was worse for women than it was for men.

She curled her fingers around the vent slats and pushed and pulled gently, trying not to make too much noise. The metal flexing and scraping against the vent sounded like nails on a chalkboard, but she worked it loose. Thank fuck it was an old building. A newer one might've had the vents screwed in place instead of clipped on. She would've been long dead (or worse) if that had been the case. It was a struggle, but she managed to set the vent cover inside the vent before... before almost leaving it.

Jenny recalled, with uncomfortable clarity, what it had been like as a child late at night. To know the bogeyman was there, to know that as soon as she stuck out a hand or a foot, even her nose, it would get snatched up. The monsters here were real, and they would do much worse than just snatch her under the bed.

"Come on," she encouraged herself, her own voice sounding far away, "Come on, do it. Nothing is there. Do it. Get the fuck out of here."

She held her breath and slithered out of the vent, landing awkwardly on the floor and stumbling. Jenny grabbed the desk for support and looked around, her eyes wild. Nothing. Just an office. The door was closed and she couldn't hear any screams or heavy footsteps. There was a computer on the desk. A computer and a phone. She stared at both, glanced at the window, and sat in the office chair. Her arms and legs felt cramped and abused by her time in the vents, but she was in the home stretch now. She could feel it.

Four twenty-three, the computer clock said. She tried to bring up the Internet, but the computer informed her that she needed to contact the Systems Administrator to rectify her lack of access. Fuck that. He was probably eating off his own fingers by now. She tried the phone next. The line was dead, and she tried a few different ways to get an outside line. When she found it, she got a dial tone, and she froze. Who should she call? An ambulance? The police? The National fucking Guard?

Nine, one, one. It was ringing. Oh, Jesus, it was ringing. Once, twice, and the line went dead. Jenny held it to her ear anyway, listening to the silence, and then slowly replaced it in the cradle. Then she grabbed the entire thing and smashed it into the computer monitor with a defiant, frustrated yell. She barely damaged either thing. She hadn't been strong to begin with, and after not eating for god-knew how long and crawling around in vents like she was starring in the most fucked up Die Hard movie ever, Jenny wasn't in any position to exert force.

Fine, though. Fine. She was going to be okay. Just because outside communication wasn't available didn't mean she couldn't get the fuck out. She took some steadying breaths and approached the window, peering out. She was a few floors up. Too high to jump down, and she didn't recognize the courtyard – it wasn't the front, and the grounds were expansive, but it didn't matter. Out was out. There could be a fence or a gate or something, and she'd be better off on the ground floor. She didn't know why she was so convinced of that, but scurrying around in a dark tunnel had made her feel like a rat in a sinking ship. Jenny wasn't a rat. She wasn't vermin. If she needed to run, she was better off not being confronted with the choice to leap to her death. There would be a way out, on the ground. Up here she was just trapped.

She tried the window, and at first it didn't budge, and a desperate whimper slipped out of her. Jenny tried it again, and it budged, ancient paint (probably lead based) flaked and the hinge groaned, but it opened. A crisp autumn breeze blew in and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, letting the cool air raise gooseflesh. Freedom. She was so close.

Jenny very carefully perched on the window ledge, not liking how shaky her legs were. She needed to eat, and to drink. She needed to rest. Her current state gave her pause – what if she fell? She was three stories up. Could she manage that without breaking a bone?

A noise behind her, in the hall, startled her and made her whip her head around. She nearly fell out, managing to catch herself on the window frame before she could test her hypothesis. Her eyes were fixed to the door, but it didn't burst open. Eddie didn't storm in and push her out. The two men weren't standing there like they'd been there all along. Had she imagined it? Jesus Christ, probably. She was wound so tight every little sound was like a crackle of thunder. It was nothing. It was nothing and she could look away. She could focus on her next move. Scoot along the ledge, maybe? A tree was growing very close to the building. She could climb down the tree.

On the ground below her, someone was watching her. Jenny froze and stared, and the man stared back. He was wearing what she'd seen some of the other male inmates wearing, some strange, dull brown outfit with a collar. He was missing an eye, and most of his face looked... bad. Like it a tumor had grown wildly out of control. They were silent, watching each other, and she was sure he didn't even blink. Jenny scrubbed at her eyes a few times, but he wasn't a hallucination, she didn't think. Her legs started to protest being in a crouch, but she ignored them for now.

"Hello?" she tried, her voice quiet. Maybe too quiet, because he didn't respond. Not even a blink. Jenny raised her voice and repeated herself, "Hello?"

"You shouldn't be here," he said. His voice was normal. He sounded calm.

"I couldn't agree with you more, buddy," Jenny said. Maybe he sounded sane, but the staring was a little much. The two naked dudes with knives hadn't killed her. They'd helped, even. Maybe she could trust this guy, too. It wasn't like she had a lot of options. It was get his help, or take her chances in the hallway, and she knew she was still on the same floor as she'd started on, "Is there a way out down there? Maybe to the main building?"

"No one can leave," he said, "We must all bear witness."

Despite sounding sane, he clearly was not. Did she want to risk dropping down into an open area with a crazy dude? Jenny didn't know if her legs had much juice left. If any.

"Please, I'm a doctor," she said, switching tactics, "I need to get help. For you and everyone else. Is the main building connected to this courtyard?"

"A doctor?" his deformed brow twisted, "Doctor!?"

That had been the wrong thing to say. He'd gone from creepy-but-chill to frothing rage in about half a second. He was actually trying to scale the building now, clawing at the brick, not even flinching as a fingernail peeled off like a wet band-aid.

"You did this!" he shouted. His voice echoed in the open courtyard, "You did this! It's your fault! Liar! LIAR! DOCTOR!"

Jenny stumbled back from the window, backing up until she was up against the door. She didn't think he'd actually be able to scale a mostly sheer surface, but he didn't seem to be feeling pain. The hate concentrated in his one eye had been something to behold. Maybe he'd just stay there and she could drop down somewhere else. Or there would be another stairwell. She eyeballed the vent, but her thighs seemed to flinch at even the thought of crawling.

Screwing up her courage, and driven by the madman's furious shrieks, she slowly, very slowly opened the door. The hallway was lit, here. It was all offices, and there was carpeting. Down at the far end, someone had thrown down a hasty barricade of bookshelves and a desk. It was smeared with blood. She swallowed and peered the other way. Dark. But she might be able to squeeze past the barricade. There had to be another stairwell, or maybe an administration area.

Jenny closed the door behind her and padded down the hallway. All the doors were closed, and she felt exposed, but she could see where she was going. That was something. And if she could see where she was going, she could see trouble coming. And trouble could see her going. When she arrived at the barricade, she tried not to notice the drag marks that led into another office, the door closed. Nevermind all of that. Jenny turned her body sideways and tried to squeeze through, but when that didn't work she had to crawl down under the desk on her belly. The blood in the carpet was still a little wet. Nevermind. It was fine. There would be a stairwell. There would be another way out.

The madman's shrieks were very far away now. Easy to forget. She slid out the other side of the barricade and resisted the urge to look down at herself. Where her scrubs were wet, they clung to her skin, but it didn't matter. Nevermind. Nevermind.

"Come as you are, as you were," she sung under her breath. She'd loved Nirvana. Nevermind had been a good album. She remembered saving up to buy the CD. It wasn't that long ago, but buying CDs seemed vintage, now, "As I want you to be."

The hallway stretched forever, but her eyes were fixed on the lit stairwell icon. A stick man with one leg up on the stairs. When she got out of here she was going to download the album and sing along to it at the top of her lungs, just because she could. Because she would be alive, and not dead, not worse.

We must all bear witness. Bear witness to fucking what? He'd probably been about to flash his dick at her. That wouldn't even have been the weirdest thing anyone had done to her today. She went straight for the stairwell and didn't glance to her left or right. Her peripheral vision assured her it was just more hallways and closed office doors. Jenny pulled on the door, and it opened. She stared dumbly at the stairwell for a moment, disbelieving, before motor function returned and she slipped inside. Jenny was cautious at first, but then she was stepping quickly, taking two steps at a time once she got to the second floor landing. The fatigue left her limbs entirely when she hit the ground floor landing, and she threw the door open. A sign that said EXIT with an arrow pointing towards her salvation seemed to have been placed for her personally. It wasn't an exit from the grounds, but an exit from this particular building was more than welcome.

Jenny turned left, to head in the direction the arrow was pointing, but there was another barricade. This one was made of meat. Towering meat without a face. Or a at least the framework of a face that once was. It was humongous, dominating the narrow hallway, and she seemed to have caught it in the process of killing something. It's eyes were glazed over, white, but she didn't think it was blind. Not with how it was staring at her, grinning at her. Not breaking eye contact, it resumed its activity, twisting and ripping until the head of the poor bastard it had killed came off.

It tossed it at her and it rolled to a stop at her feet.

Jenny had it in her to scream and she scrambled back, her own screaming tearing at her throat and making her ears ring. She bolted back for the stairs, followed by a nasty chuckle and the clinking of chains, and Jenny headed up. Up, up, like a rat on a sinking ship. Up, up, up, and she fell and bashed her knee, and the door opened on the landing below her.

"Let me help you!" it (he?) called after her, "I'll make the pain stop!"

There was nothing reassuring about his words. What floor had she been on? She tried the door on the second floor landing but it didn't budge. Three, she'd been on three. She could hide on three. The vent. She could get back to the vent and she'd be safe. She'd be safe and she'd never leave it again, it was safe there, safe from all of this! He was closing on her. Adrenaline or no, her body was very close to giving out.

Third floor landing. The door opened. She ran for the barricade. Down on her belly, like a worm, like a rat, wriggle, wriggle.

"Darling."

Eddie was there, towering over her. She didn't have time to register if he was angry or pleased to see her, because feverish, calloused hands grabbed her ankles and yanked her back out the other side.


	4. Chapter 4

The meaty hands yanked her back with such force it yanked her shirt up, forcing her bare skin against the carpet. Soft on her feet, it was coarse when it raked against her skin so quickly, and her too-large shirt obscured her face when the corpulent _thing_ dangled her in the air by one ankle.

"Darling-!" Eddie sounded frantic, "Oh, Darling! I'm coming! Unhand her, you brute!"

She would've laughed if coarse fingers weren't touching her stomach and trailing down, grazing a breast and making her entire body go rigid. It was the thing that laughed in her stead.

"Don't you touch her!" Eddie frantic tone had a hard edge now. A hard, ugly edge, "Don't you fucking touch her! She's _mine_!"

Jenny struggled to pull the hem of her shirt back under control, but something heavy clobbered her and she felt herself turn into a ragdoll. All she could see was rust-stained material, the scrubs that had once been a dull blue. She could hear shouting and screaming and breaking wood. The world swayed. She was moving. Moving away from the sounds of violence. It would be easy to slip into darkness. Darkness like the tunnel. Like a little wriggly rat, squeak squeak, safe and sound and out of harm's way.

But she wasn't a rat. She wasn't. She wasn't a fucking rat, and she wasn't safe, and a rock had her over his shoulder, carrying her away from a hard place like a sack of potatoes. Neither were ideal. The rock, the monster, opened a door and tossed her down onto a tiled floor. Fluorescent lights buzzed. She could smell piss. Was it her? No. A urinal. A men's room. The monster's meaty hand grabbed her hair and dragged her over to a stall, banging it open, and he held her head over the water for a moment, letting her get a good look.

Jenny had been thirsty. She didn't think she was anymore.

The monster pressed her face into the toilet bowl, forcing it down and holding it there. At first she just held her breath, but she couldn't hold it for long, and she started to panic. He was going to drown her, despite what his earlier caress had suggested. She'd watched him rip off a man's head, but for her, it was drowning. Jenny struggled, scratching at whatever she could. His thick wrist, his hand. She didn't think she was doing any damage, or if she was, he didn't care.

Suddenly he yanked back and she gasped and then coughed when the water running down her face was sucked into her lungs. She gulped greedily for air, trying to grasp his wrist, to get her legs underneath her, but down she went again. Jenny didn't even feel in control of what her body was doing, but she felt it would know better than she did. Anything to not drown. _Anything_.

He lifted her head up again and then lifted her up, up, and she was sure she felt some scalp _give_. The monster wrapped an arm around her middle and pressed her fully against him, his body a furnace. Maybe drowning was better. What was it doing? What _now_?

"Can you squeal, little pig?"

Jenny sucked in a deep breath and screamed for Eddie. He clamped a hand down over her mouth, even though she was sure his rhetorical question had also been a request. His hand stank of rotten meat and blood, and though the wild thought to _bite him_ crossed her mind, she rejected it. She didn't want whatever was on his hand in her mouth. The door to the men's room burst open almost immediately, and suddenly she was in the air, and just as suddenly she hit something solid, bowling it backwards. Eddie. He'd _thrown _her at him. She was bait for a much bigger fish.

And now he was advancing. He had to duck to get through the door. Duck and side-step. Although briefly stunned by the projectile flung at him, Eddie gathered her up in his arms and ran with her. Jenny wasn't sure if laughing was the appropriate response, considering. All that came out were thick, wet coughs. _Eddie to the rescue_. Not even Eddie wanted to fight that fucking thing.

"Throw it back!" the monster called after them. His voice wasn't very far away. He was big, but he was fast, "Throw it back! It's too small! Under the limit! Throw me the runt!"

Eddie vaulted over the ruins of the barricade, but carrying her threw his balance off and he stumbled, swore, crushing her to his chest in attempt to keep them upright. He somehow recovered, and Jenny realized she'd been gripping his suitcoat lapels like some hideous cliché. She wasn't being _saved_ right now. Maybe she wasn't going to get drowned or decapitated, but this was very much a six of one, half-dozen of the other type situation.

He grunted and pitched forward without warning, but as she anticipated his crushing weight, he managed to turn and land on his shoulder. They both jolted, and she tumbled out of his arms, coming to a stop hard against a wall. From her vantage, she saw the monster looming over him, and even as Eddie tried to push up off of the floor, one of the monster's ham fists came down on the back of his head, driving him back down again.

Jenny scrambled back, scooting on her ass, and she wasn't proud of the incoherent gibbering that came out of her mouth in place of words. If that thing killed Eddie, she was dead. But if she went with Eddie, she was dead, too. Maybe. He'd made a big effort to get her away from the monster. Why make all that effort if you were going to kill someone? Unless he wanted to kill her himself, in some other unspeakable way. A way that might make her nostalgic for drowning in a men's room toilet. Trying to parse out the logic of an insane person was as exhausting as it was pointless.

She twisted around to get to her feet, stumbled and fell down when her legs refused to hold her weight, and got up again. This time they worked, but grudgingly. Jenny darted into the nearest office and started to toss it, looking for something, anything. The struggling outside was lots of meat striking meat and grunts. She didn't know if Eddie was fighting back or if the monster was just beating him to death, but she didn't stop to check.

Her choices were slim, so she grabbed the thing that would be the easiest for her to use and staggered back into the hallway. They were both on their feet, but the monster had Eddie pinned against the wall, holding him up so his feet dangled. He was gagging and kicking at the monster while he strangled, his expression hateful. Not afraid. Not even a little bit afraid. That gave Jenny pause, but his eyes moved to her, and she knew the monster would follow his gaze a moment later, and she would be well and truly _fucked_. Jenny dropped down to the floor, gripped the letter opener with both hands and jammed up, right into where she imagined his scabby fucking balls were. She jammed up and then she _twisted_, gritting her teeth when she encountered resistance.

That got his attention. The monster howled and grabbed for her, but she was off her feet before she could even process the fact that hot blood had soaked her hands. She was over Eddie's shoulder, and she saw the thing sink to his knees, clutching his ruined genitals.

Eddie's breathing was ragged and his gait was unsteady, but after a few minutes of flat-out sprinting he seemed to recover. He didn't stop running. It was dark outside of the offices, and she wondered if they were going right back to where she'd started. The thought made her heart sink into her stomach, and that, in turn, made her sick. Jenny had nothing to bring up, however, and she just dry heaved as she bounced against Eddie's shoulder. She was going to black out, she was fairly certain. She was exhausted, terrified, _drained_, and it wasn't even over yet.

He slowed down and carefully set her down on the ground, bracing his hands on his thighs as he attempted to catch his breath. Jenny tried to stand a few times, but she was like a newborn deer – her legs refused to take her weight. Giving up, she wiped her gory hands on her scrubs. They were more rust than blue, now, though in the gloomy hallway the blood looked black.

Jenny hated that she started to cry. Big wet sobs that shook her shoulders. Jesus, she had thought she was going to make it out. She had felt the autumn wind and the sun on her skin, and now she was in a stuffy hallway with a psychopath who called her _darling_. Right back where she'd fucking started.

"Oh, my love," Eddie sighed and sat down next to her. He put an arm around her, and firmly (but gently) turned her chin to face him. Jenny swallowed noisily, and looking at his diseased face made her burst into sobs anew. She hated how he was looking at her, like he knew her, like he_cared._ Jenny knew he didn't, but she would've given both legs for one sincere, comforting hug right about now, "I thought you were like all those other deceitful _whores_, but you're not, are you? You _helped_ me. I _knew_ you loved me. You're just fickle and confused, is all. That's just how women are. But you knew what was best for you, in the end. I'm so _proud_ of you, darling. I know it's hard to swallow your pride."

Jenny closed her eyes, her brows knit, and then the gentle hand on her chin was gripping her throat. Her eyes flew open.

"Don't you _ever_ run away from me again," he said, "Ever. _Ever_. It's just not _safe_, my darling girl. Do you understand?"

She tried to nod, but his grip on her throat was too tight, so she just stared at him. That seemed to be enough, at least, and he released her, pulling her into his lap so he could give her an almost crushing hug. Jenny wondered if this was what a gorilla's therapy kitten felt like. He stroked her hair and started to hum, and in spite of herself, in spite of _everything_, she started to drift off. She was so tired, and he was warm. He smelled like blood and Old Spice, but she couldn't smell much better by now.

His flower was gone. Thank god. That thing had been almost _too_ absurd.

Jenny was vaguely aware of moving again, drifting in and out. He was going to kill her soon, but not before he did something _else_. She didn't know what, exactly, but she wasn't stupid. He'd gone from fawning to threatening to break her legs not too long ago. The doting veneer was just that – a flimsy front to cover something ugly and cruel.

Where they ended up, she didn't know, but he laid her down on a bed and covered her with his suitcoat, kissing her temple before creeping out of the room. There was a solid _click_ of a door locking to punctuate just how little choice she had in whatever fucked up narrative he was weaving her into. At least she wasn't in restraints.

For now.


	5. Chapter 5

Waking up was unpleasant business. Everything was stiff and sore. Her mouth was tacky and dry, and her stomach was painfully empty. Eddie never had gotten her anything to eat. _Eddie_. She shifted on the creaky mattress and pulled the suitcoat up, reaching into the inside pockets and coming up with a smashed Snickers. Jenny didn't even take a moment to think about it – she tore the package open and bolted it down. She didn't even really have a sweet tooth, but it was the best damned thing she'd eaten in her life. Sitting up, she kept rifling through the pockets, but didn't come up with anything else but a bloody pocket square. There were tears in the suit from his struggle with the monster, and she idly wiggled her fingers through them. Where had he even gotten a suit _here_? Up close, she could see that it had been stitched and mended. Not inexpertly, either. Better than she would've done, anyway.

He'd probably killed the person wearing it. The thought made her uneasy and she set the coat aside, instead getting a look at her surroundings. It was a padded cell. There was a toilet and a cot and nothing else, and of course it locked on the outside. There was dim light coming in through the viewing window, but she didn't think it was daylight. She felt rested, but it had been early when she'd tried to leave, so it was probably early in the morning, now.

How she was so calm, she didn't know. Everything had a surreal quality to it, a _haze_.

God, she was in bad shape. Jenny forced herself to stand and stretch, inspecting her myriad bruises and feeling gingerly on her scalp. She was caked with blood, and not all of it was hers. The need to take a scalding hot shower was strong, but she was probably infected already, if she hadn't been just by arriving on site. Her last memories suggested she'd had a miscarriage like the other women had, but why had she lived?

A few others had lived as well, but Eddie had taken care of them. Or maybe he'd turned them loose and the monster had grabbed them.

An uneasy feeling prickled the nape of her neck when something blocked out the light, and she turned her head, jumping when she saw Eddie's grinning face. Jenny tried to smile back but she didn't think she succeeded. Eddie unlatched the door and stepped inside. The room had been small before, but now it seemed even smaller. Suffocating.

"You look like an angel when you sleep, my beautiful darling," Eddie sighed, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles, "I'm sorry that awful man_savaged_ you, but you _did_ run away, Jenny. I hope you learned a valuable lesson."

Jenny said nothing, watching Eddie rub a thumb over her knuckles. It was dangerous to reinforce his delusion, but at the same time? It seemed like the only way she could keep him from snapping on her. He was watching her very, very closely. _Expectant_. He wasn't going to suffer her being silent for much longer. Jenny cleared her throat a few times, resisting the urge to pull her hand out of his. It didn't seem as feverish as it had earlier. Either she was used to it, or her own body temperature had started going up.

"Is it... is that monster going to find us again?" she asked, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. Both eyes had subconjuctival haemorrhages, but it didn't look like it was causing him any pain or trouble. Or maybe he just couldn't feel pain anymore? She hadn't ever seen him itching the growths on his face.

"Don't you worry about it, my darling," Eddie said, "I think he's learned a valuable lesson about taking other people's property. I'll keep you safe from now on, I _promise_."

"But he... it saw where you went," Jenny protested, testing the waters. She'd stabbed that fucked up tub of lard in the dick – she wasn't convinced it was going to just accept that it was bested and move on.

"Do you _want_ him to find you?" he asked, his hand squeezing hers. Firm, at first, but then tighter the longer he spoke, "Did you _like_ how he touched you? What _else_ did he do, where I couldn't see? When I was trying _desperately_ to save you from him?"

Her hand was throbbing, and when she tried to draw it away he only pulled her forward a step, another hand wrapping easily around her throat.

"Eddie, no, _no_," she stammered, "No, I _hated_ it. He tried to drown me, that's all. He was just trying to upset you. I was just so scared, I don't—I don't ever want to see him again."

Eddie's eyes were narrowed, and she could see the gears turning behind them. Jesus, she was on the thinnest of thin ice with him. One wrong word and he'd rip her fucking arms off. She was going to have to try a lot harder. If she could get him to a point where he'd trust her to be alone without being locked up, she'd have a better chance. Maybe she could even get him to walk her out the front door of the asylum. Jenny didn't think she stood a chance on her own, not with things like Fatty Lumpkins lumbering around, but that thing had beaten the hell out of Eddie and he didn't seem any worse for wear.

He relented and smoothed some hair out of her face. Jenny couldn't help but wince when he touched where her scalp had been damaged, and he winced, too, ducking his head apologetically.

"You're just a _mess_, darling," he sighed, "_Filthy_. It won't do."

Eddie released her and grabbed his jacket, folding it over one arm and offering her the other. It was so fucking _ludicrous_, but she took it anyway, hoping her smile looked grateful. Or at least more like a smile than a grimace.

"I ate the Snickers bar," she confessed quickly, hearing the wrapper crinkle, "Sorry."

"Oh, no! I got that for _you_, my love," Eddie said, winking at her, "You're a little on the bony side. There wasn't much left in the machine on this floor, I'm afraid. I'll have to have another look around."

"Thanks," Jenny said. Her body felt stiff, but rest and food had made a world of difference. He'd taken her to a small holding area with rows of padded cells. As far as she could tell in the grim fluorescent lighting, they were all empty. Had they been like that when he'd taken her here, or had he cleared it out? She still didn't know where the bodies of the other women had ended up. Jenny wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

Eddie led her towards the bathrooms (clearly labelled) and presumably to where the showers were. Her stomach twisted. Was he going to insist on bathing her? Going in to 'supervise'? He stopped just shy of going into a room clearly marked 'showers' and looked down at her. Jenny slipped her arm out of his and hugged herself, swallowing and preparing for the worst.

"You aren't going to do anything _stupid_, are you, darling?" he asked her. His tone was sweet, but the undercurrent of malice was plain as day, "I'd to have to punish you. I don't like doing it, you know. But if you make me, I will."

"I won't," she said, "I promise I won't. I... I learned my lesson."

Jenny didn't think she sounded too convincing. It was such a fucked up thing to say, but look who she was talking to. Fucked up barely scratched the surface. Despite her lack of conviction, Eddie seemed pleased, and he nodded at her. For a glorious moment she thought he was going to leave her to it, but he caught himself mid-turn and put his hands on his hips. His '_Oh, you!_' expression was something to behold.

"Why don't you give me those filthy clothes, darling?" he said, "I'll find you something more suitable. More... _feminine_. I have _just_ the thing, but I have to go and get it," his eyes glittered and took on a far away quality, "You're going to be so _beautiful_."

He'd made a dress out of the skin of the other women, hadn't he? She was going to have to wear a person-skin dress and pretend like it didn't make her want to claw her own eyes out. And despite his wholesome act, he was staring her down. Waiting. Jenny swallowed and couldn't look at him anymore, dropping her eyes to the floor. The scrubs she was wearing were completely filthy. If it wasn't dirt and dust from the vents, it was blood from... from pretty much everywhere. Even the blood of the monster was still caked under her fingernails.

She took a deep breath and pulled the baggy shirt up over her head, holding it against her bare breasts and pretending she couldn't hear him breathing audibly, now. Jenny had to struggle a bit with the drawstring on her pants. She'd pulled them very tight and tied the knot a few times. They were too big and would've slid off her hips, otherwise. Once the knot loosened a little, she let gravity do the rest and stepped out of them. Cool air prickled her exposed skin, and she dipped down to grab the pants. All that stood between her and full frontal nudity was clutching the stained clothing to her.

Jenny dared to look up at him, and she didn't like what she saw. He looked _ravenous_, but not in a sexual way. Not at all. He was seeing something_else_. Not a 'bride' or a 'darling' but a slab of fucking meat. Fuck. What was he going to do to her?

"So modest," he said, his voice thick and low, "An excellent quality in a wife, but I must _insist_ you hand those rags over, dear. You won't need them anymore."

There was something very final, very chilling about his statement, but Jenny didn't think she had a lot of options right now. She took a deep breath and handed the scrubs over. He took them, making a point to touch her hand when he did so. The contact made him exhale a vocal, shivery breath. Jenny wanted to bolt into the showers, but running just pissed him off, so she just stood there, filthy and bloody and nude, one arm cast over her breasts, her legs pressed as close together as possible.

Eddie dropped the scrubs and started to reach for her, but he jerked his hands back just shy of her like he'd been scalded.

"How _dare_ you tempt me like this?" he snarled at her, balling his hands into fists, so tight that the leather of his fingerless gloves creaked. Jenny scrambled back a step, "And right before our wedding! Go clean yourself off, you filthy teasing _bitch_."

She didn't need to be told twice, and once she was inside the shower area she twisted on the water and sat down under it, hugging herself and rocking. No tears, this time. She didn't have any left, she didn't think. Jesus Christ. What was she going to do? She'd been terrified he was going to rape her, but he obviously had some serious sexual hang-ups. Delusion or no, he was still looking for a reason to kill her. To do to her whatever he'd done to the other women. The conspicuously _missing_ other women.

Once she'd stopped shaking she stood up and concentrated on scrubbing off the grime of the past few... days? Hours? Fuck if she knew anymore. Time had almost no meaning here. There was a cracked, thin bar of lava soap, and she scrubbed rigorously at her nails to get the blood out from under them. Her scalp stung, but the damage wasn't as bad as she'd originally thought. Head wounds just bled a lot. Once she was clean she felt much more human, and she wiped steam off of a mirror while she used a dubiously clean towel to dry off. Jenny winced at her appearance. Her bottom lip had been split – by Eddie or the monster, she didn't know – and her left eye had a heckuva shiner. She was bruised and scratched, and even the eye that hadn't been smacked by a monster had a dark circle around it. Maybe she'd slept, but the stress was eating at her.

You could only take so much adrenaline before your body started to wear out. Her knees looked like she'd crawled around on glass, and without the blood and grime to dull her, every bruise and cut stood out brilliantly on her skin. Jenny wrapped her hair up in a towel and wrapped her body with another dry one, leaving two wet towels on the ground. She doubted she would be showering again. Jenny closed her eyes and dropped her head forward, resting it on the mirror. Was she insane to be going along with this instead of trying to run? Jenny was still relatively confident that her sanity was intact. She was still self-aware, so that had to be worth something. She was aware that she was walking a very fine line, a tightrope, and that someone kept shaking it as she tried to make her way across. There had to be some way to get Eddie to go along with what she wanted, but so far he poured his domineering, demeaning bullshit down her throat and she had to swallow it or choke.

All of that, and that monster was still out there, probably plotting his revenge. There was the slim chance he'd bled to death, but she hadn't thought to go for his femoral artery, at least not in the heat of the moment. She'd gone straight for his _business_.

Jenny lifted her head and opened her eyes. Better she went out and waited for him than make him come in and get her. Maybe if she acted like a 50s housewife, he'd have fewer reasons to have outbursts? Maybe-

"_Thefuck_!?"

She snapped her head around, and the thing she'd thought was a hallucination was actually there. It was a haze, but it was in the shape of a man. It was just hovering there, and while she couldn't see any eyes, she knew it was looking at her. Looking _through_ her. Her ears were ringing and her legs turned to rubber, and her world started to narrow down, like she was looking at everything through a tunnel. What was is what was it what did it want it wanted everything it wanted pain and blood and _suffering_.

Jenny had felt like this before. There had been a moment in her dormitory, and this thing had come to her, and then there had been terrible pain and drugs and they had put her under.

"No," she croaked. She knew protesting would not stop it, but hearing her own voice helped jolt her out of her stupor, "No, _no_! Not again! Leave me alone!"

She did the only thing she could, even if it had proven almost entirely useless to her so far: she ran. Her bare feet slapped against tiles and the towel around her hair flew off as she flung herself out of the bathroom, clutching the towel around her body with one hand. The thing didn't make a sound, but she could _feel_ it humming in her bones, an awful buzzing that bored into the middle of her brain and started to shred its way back out.

"Eddie!" he was the only person who didn't want to outright murder her, "Eddie, help! _EDDIE_!"

Nothing. Just her bare feet on the tiled floor and her ragged breathing. Fuck, what if the monster heard her? The _other_ monster. Jenny looked over her shoulder and slowed down. Came to a stop. Nothing. There was nothing there. Was she losing her mind? Had it just been a... a flashback? Jenny put a shaky hand to her forehead, slicking her wet hair back and trying not to blink. It would show up again. It was after her. It had nearly killed her, before. She hadn't imagined it. It had been real.

It wasn't there.

"Jenny! Darling!" she could hear Eddie's voice coming up behind her, but she didn't take her eyes off of the hallway, off the entrance to the showers. Nothing. There was nothing there, "What is it!? What's the matter?"

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around and finally she looked away from the hall. Jenny couldn't see her face, but her expression must've been pretty convincing, because he didn't become immediately angry that she'd wasted his time with nothing. He didn't even seem phased by her state of undress.

"Did you see it?" he asked in a low, uneasy voice. It was Eddie, now, that was staring warily down the hall, "The Walrider?"

"I saw _something_," Jenny said, "But I must've imagined it. I thought it was chasing me but... there's nothing there."

"He wants you for himself," Eddie said, putting a hand on the back of her neck and quickly steering her back the way he'd come. She hated how his hand felt there, like she was a possession and not a person, "But he can't have you. We're in love. Nothing can stand in the way of true love."

With his hand on her neck, she couldn't turn and check behind her. Eddie kept checking in her stead, and she didn't know if she felt better or worse about the fact that he believed she'd seen something, and despite her not even describing it, he seemed to know what she was afraid of. What the fuck had happened here? They walked in silence, heading into a 'REC AREA', and Eddie's paranoid posture shifted almost immediately. Like he'd completely forgotten what had just happened. The encounter was fading from her mind quickly, too. She tried to hang onto the terror and paranoia, but they slipped through her fingers like sand.

"Close your eyes, my darling," he said, practically bursting with glee, "I have a big surprise for you!"

Jenny hesitated and he took his hand off of her neck, moving in front of her and giving her a _look_. She closed her eyes, but that didn't satisfy him, because he added, "Cover your eyes, too. No peeking!"

Making sure she had the towel secured with one hand, she covered her eyes with the other. What the fuck, right? What the fuck else could possibly happen that she would need to peek at to soften the blow? It was going to be her skinsuit. Probably complete with a wig made from someone else's hair. Maybe there'd even still be scalp on it. Eddie's hands lightly cupped her elbows and guided her forwards, and even with her eyes closed, she could almost _hear_ him grinning. Whatever he'd done, he was proud of it. When they came to a stop (through at least two doors, she thought) Jenny braced herself.

"Open them!"

She dropped her hand, gripped the towel with both hands and set her jaw. She wouldn't scream. When she saw the skinsuit, she would try to be impressed. Or happy. Something other than terror and another pointless dash through dark halls. Jenny opened her eyes and her jaw dropped. Eddie had his hands clasped together, a hopeful expression on his face.

"Do you like it!?"

He'd made a fucking _wedding dress_. He'd taken shit from around what had used to be some kind of art therapy room, and he'd made her a wedding dress. It was a little rough, but shit, that he'd made it at all was blowing her mind. He'd even put it on a dress form. There was a _veil_, for fuck's sake.

"Wow," Jenny said, managing to revise her 'holy shit!' into something more wholesome, "I... _wow_, Eddie."

"Oh, I knew you'd like it!" he exclaimed, practically dancing in place. He looked like he was about to cry, and he crossed over to her in just a few strides, picking her up off the ground in a crushing embrace, "We're going to be married, darling! It's really happening this time!"

_This time?_


	6. Chapter 6

"You have to try it on," he set her down, "I know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, especially in her dress, but we can make an exception since I'm the one who made it."

Eddie looked at her and the awful, hungry look from before darkened his face. He was ready for it, this time, and headed for a door. It gave her a tiny nibble of hope, that he was actively trying not to kill her.

"Try it on and call me back in!" he said cheerfully, "Don't make me wait too long!"

Jenny was trying not to dwell on that look of his. Maybe she'd gotten further than the other women had, but that probably wasn't saying much. He was going to kill her. Maybe while she was wearing a wedding dress. Jenny had never really thought about having a big white wedding. She liked her more solitary lifestyle. She liked wearing gross sweats from a couple days ago and watching Netflix, and having no one around to judge her slovenly, bachelorette ways.

Overall, Jenny had really liked her life. Up to this past little bit. This, she could do without.

You should be worried about the Walrider, she thought. It was annoying thought and she frowned, shaking her head. It was fine. There were more immediate things to worry about than a hallucination. It didn't matter. Jenny looked around and let her towel drop, carefully pulling the dress off the form. She could already tell it was going to be too big. The woman this was meant for had long supermodel legs, childbearing hips and a serious rack. Jenny had none of those things, but she slipped the dress on anyway, trying to situate it on her body as best she could. As an afterthought, she put on the veil, but she didn't call Eddie back in.

He was going to be upset it didn't fit, wasn't he? And even though she was dressed, it wasn't especially practical to slink around in so much fabric, so bailing out was still out of the question.

"I'm dressed," she called out. He'd been very unhappy about her being naked, before. Jenny held up the bodice of the dress to keep it from sliding down and tried to grin, like she was the happiest girl in the world. It probably looked more like she was asking if there was anything in her teeth, but close enough. Eddie backed into the room, one hand over his eyes, and he turned around. That goony fucking grin of his made her wish she could punch someone hard enough to knock out teeth, "Can I look?"

"Go ahead," she said. He pulled his hand away and looked at her, and while he was briefly pleased, he approached her with a deepening frown.

"It doesn't fit," he scolded her. Like it was her fucking fault. She really needed to not get combative with him. There was no way she was going to win an argument, so she just kept quiet and still. Eddie moved around behind her and cinched the bodice in roughly with his hands, drawing a squeak of surprise from Jenny, "I can take it in. Not too much, though. You'll need room to grow."

He pulled her back against him and laid a hand gingerly over her stomach, and the creepy-crawlies just about made her skin slough off. For someone who got angry about nudity, he was really carrying a torch for that 'having a baby' thing. Jesus, this was gross. He was projecting all of these sick fantasies onto her, fantasies she was pretty sure she kept accidentally breaking, and there was no way she was going to live up to them. He'd kill her before she even got close.

"We're going to have such beautiful children," he sounded hopeful and vulnerable, and if he hadn't threatened to strangle her a few times, her heart might've broken for him. As it stood? She was thoroughly creeped out, "I'll take good care of you and our babies, Jenny. I'm going to be a good father. The best father. And the best husband. Nothing will ever hurt you ever again."

Play along, she coaxed herself, with a strong argument of, No fucking way, dude, asserting itself as well. She had to, though. There was a direfinality in his reassurances, childish as they were, and she had no desire to accelerate his timetable. Even though it went against her every instinct, Jenny carefully laid one of her hands over his. She felt him twitch, and she didn't know if it was a good or bad thing, what she'd done. Jenny held her breath as she waited to find out, and released it when she felt him relax again.

"You're a good man, Eddie," she said, just throwing shit at the wall and seeing what stuck, "So good to me. And such a good provider."

She felt sort of gross, playing into an insane person's unhealthy delusions, but it was him or her at this point. Jenny could feel bad about it later, when she was sitting on a white sand beach drinking a mojito.

"It makes me feel so good to hear you say that, darling," Eddie sounded choked up and he squeezed her uncomfortably tight, "I knew you weren't like those other whores. All I wanted to do was fill them up. Fill up the empty place inside of them. Nobody wants to be empty. Nobody but stupid sluts who don't know any better. I saw your chart. I know what happened. I can make everything better for you, Jenny, and we'll be sohappy."

Jenny let a beat of silence pass before she made herself lean against him and sigh dreamily, looking up at him, "When are we going to get married?"

"Very soon, my darling," he said, giving her a chaste peck on the forehead and stepping away from her, "I'll need to take in the dress, first."

Eddie drew out a pencil and some pins from his waistcoat and started to gather the back of the gown, presumably marking where he was going to take in the bodice. And maybe hopefully shorten it. That, she wasn't holding out hope for. She sincerely doubted he was concerned about her mobility.

"That should do it," he said, "I'll make the adjustments right now."

When Jenny made no move to take off the dress he started to look impatient, and she quickly cleared her throat, "I don't have anything else to wear."

"Oh! Duh!" his laugh was a little too bubbly, a little too self-effacing, "Eddie, you goof! I forgot! You just wait right here, sweetheart."

She released the breath she'd been holding and just stood there, keeping her oversized wedding dress on with both hands. Did she even want to know where he'd learned to sew? There was a lot about him she didn't want to know. Just when she thought he was taking a little too long, he returned and presented her with another pair of scrubs, and he didn't look happy about it.

"These will have to do," he said, terse, "You won't have to wear them long, darling. I know they're not very ladylike."

"Thank you," Jenny said. She made to move towards a door and the way his body tensed made her stop short. The hungry stare was back, his hands already in fists.

"Don't go dragging the train around on the dirty floor," he said.

"Sorry," she said in a rush, "Sorry I just... just don't want to take it off."

That placated him, but only slightly. Then tension in the room was suffocating, and she very carefully stepped out of the dress and slid it back onto the form. Once it was at least no longer in danger of flopping onto the floor she hastily yanked on the scrubs, trying not to let her hands shake. He was going to fucking skin her alive, wasn't he? His breathing was audible, all through his nose, because he was gritting his teeth together.

Once she was dressed she dared to look at him, and that awful, hungry look seemed to be deepening. He didn't mention the haphazard way she'd shoved the dress onto the form. Neither of them moved for what felt like forever, and then Eddie took a step towards her. It was a slow step, like he was in a dream, fighting against molasses. Another came. And another. Jenny gave ground, her heart leaping into her throat.

"Eddie? Eddie?" she wasn't getting through to him at all and he had a knife, oh Jesus, it was a knife as long as her forearm, "Eddie, baby? Sweetheart? Is something wrong?"

"Shut up!" he slammed her against the wall, his forearm against her throat, pinning her there. Jenny gripped his arm and coughed. She could still breathe, but struggling wouldn't do much more than piss him off. It was hard to fight the instinct to try and wriggle free, "You aren't a virgin, are you? Are you?"

Jenny's mind raced. Which answer was the right one? Would he even believe her? Where the fuck had this even come from? Well, that was a stupid train of thought: he'd probably saved it up for last. She'd come further than the other girls, but the goal, she assumed, was always to kill them. Eddie just needed an excuse.

"N-no," she decided to go with the truth. If he was going to gut her like a pig, she didn't want to die with a lie on her lips, "No, I'm not. I've been with other men, Eddie, but I'm marrying you. You're my one and only!"

Eddie bared his teeth at her, furious, and stabbed his knife into the wall beside her head. Jenny didn't care that she jumped and cried out.

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many other men did you... did you lie with, Jenny?"

Oh, fuck, like she had a solid figure, "Three. Just three, Eddie."

"You're a whore," he sounded upset, "I can't let a whore be a mother to my children!"

He yanked the knife out of the wall and put the blade up against her face. Eddie looked pained, his brows knit and his mouth turned down into a deep frown. This wasn't happening. She'd lasted this long, and fuck if she was going to get gutted now.

With nothing to lose, Jenny let go of his forearm and instead put a hand over his, pressing the knife against her cheek a little harder. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to make the eye closest to the knife twitch in anticipation. Her other hand she slid from his elbow and up. Not very far, because of the way he'd pinned her, but a caress was a caress. She looked into his eyes, and saw that he was having a difficult time holding her gaze. Eddie grit his teeth.

"What are you doing? Stop it!"

"Please, Eddie," she said. It wasn't hard to summon tears, "Please, I'm sorry. I didn't know I'd be marrying you – if I had, I would've kept myself pure for you. Give me a chance, Eddie. Don't you want to get married? To have babies and be happy forever?"

That was all he fucking talked about so she had to assume the answer was yes. Eddie made a strangled noise and pushed away from her, and Jenny sank to the floor, coughing to recover from having most of his weight jammed against her throat. He was having a tantrum, screaming and pounding the wall. Eddie wanted to kill her, but he also wanted his perfect family, and she imagined it was difficult to get those two things to line up. She felt a little shitty for whipping him up into a frenzy, but it was either this or have her face removed. Jenny was pretty sure she was going to be able to live with herself, so long as she was actually alive.

He went from a tantrum to charging at her so suddenly, she tripped trying to back away. Eddie caught her arms (where was the knife? Oh, embedded in the wall), squeezing so hard she was sure they were going to bruise. He went down on his knees, looking up at her, his face level with her chest – he was a tall drink of water. What the fuck was this, now?

"Do you love me, Jenny?" he asked. It was such a pathetic question, Jenny felt queasy, "Don't lie to me, Jenny. Oh, I couldn't take it if you lied! I couldn't."

He dug his fingernails into her arms and she cried out, but he didn't stop, his eyes boring into hers. There was such naked desperation in his eyes, she didn't know if she could lie. Whatever had happened here (or whatever had gotten him committed here) had shattered him. He had no idea what love even was. This fucked up pantomime that he was caught in, this murderous loop, it was the only way he could make sense of the world. And she was just another doctor fucking with his head.

"Of course I do, Eddie," Jenny said, her voice strained because of the fingernails digging into her upperarms. God, she was an asshole. This was fucked up. She was fucked up. This place was twisting her into something she didn't recognize, "Of course I love you. I love you with all my heart."

Jenny smiled at him and he let go of her arms so he could wrap his arms around her middle, his head pressing against her stomach. She stroked his hair and tried not to cry. This was awful. This was somehow the worst thing that happened, and she was the one doing it.

"I want to believe you," he said. His voice was muffled against her abdomen, "I want to believe you so badly, Jenny."

"I won't let anyone hurt you, Eddie," Jenny said, "You can trust me. I'm not like all those other... other whores. I'm your bride to be. Your darling."

He lifted his head, looking into her face. She smiled at him and carefully, very carefully, she cupped his jaw with her hands, forcing herself not to recoil from the softer tissue that had swelled up on his face. His eyes were wide, very wide, like a teenage boy on his first date, realizing what was about to happen. Jenny bent down and closed her eyes, partly to make it seem intimate, and partly because she really didn't want to look at him while she kissed him. His mouth tasted fucking foul, like blood and something else, something she didn't ever want to identify. Jenny counted down in her head from ten. Either he'd kill her on the spot for this, or she'd buy herself some more time.

Eddie was stiff at ten, but by five he had relaxed and leaned into the kiss, and by three he was very gently holding her shoulders. Jenny pulled away, only just managing not to yank away and turn and spit. Instead she smiled as shyly as she could, and adjusted his bowtie. The collar had come up over the tie during his last tantrum, and she smoothed it, her fingers brushing his neck. Eddie swallowed noisily. If it were anyone else she'd be flattered, but mostly Jenny was disgusted with herself. He was making her do this – she had to keep it in perspective. If she wasn't doing this, she'd be dead. Dead or screaming.

"I... I need to finish your dress," he said thickly. Eddie got to his feet, unsteady, and gathered up the dress before practically fleeing the room. He called over his shoulder, "Stay put, darling!"

Jenny exhaled loudly when he was out of the room, when she was sure he was gone she spit a few times and wiped at her mouth. Fuck, fuck. Fuck this! She was getting out of here. A kiss was one thing. She wasn't going to gaslight a mentally ill person into having sex with her. She'd done enough.

Something glinted, catching her eye and breaking through her thoughts. Her eyes widened and she looked around before she dashed over to the wall and started to work the knife out of the wall. Jesus, he'd shoved it through to the hilt. It took some doing, but she managed to work it free, her hands shaking. No, steady. Steady. If she ran this time, there wouldn't be any coming back from it.

It might be safer to wait it out with Eddie.

The thought made her freeze. What about the monster? What about the Walrider? Neither had turned up again, true, but that didn't mean they weren't waiting around the corner. One had very just cause to rip her head off, and the other was... was beyond her understanding, frankly. Jenny screwed up her face and gripped the knife to keep her hands still. This wasn't fucking fair. She just wanted to get out. She didn't want to hurt anyone. Jenny just wanted to go home. Slowly, she brought the knife up to her own throat, silent tears streaming down her face. This was one of her only options, now. She could run, she could try and get Eddie to let her out of the asylum (if such a thing were even possible), or she could just end it herself. Right now. The shoddy bandage on her arm, now grey and ready to fall off at any moment, told her that he didn't have a working knowledge of first aid. He wouldn't be able to save her.

And he could do whatever he liked with the body, though she suspected if that was what he liked, she wouldn't be alive just now. Or he'd be satisfied with the others. Jenny grit her teeth, but she knew she wasn't going to do it. It would probably be her only chance, but she couldn't. The knife wasn't going to help her fight off the monster, and it wasn't going to do shit against the Walrider, so what was the point of running? Nevermind that it was an asylum full of crazed, presumably mutated men.

What about the two that had helped her? Maybe they'd help her again. If she could find them. They'd been notably absent when someone had rolled a head at her like a bowling ball.

If she wasn't going to kill herself, she'd have to stick this out. Jenny jammed the knife back where she found it and started to laugh. It was quiet at first, but she lost her grip on it and it went out of control. She grabbed fistfuls of her hair in an attempt to contain it. All of her choices involved her almost-inevitable death. Yes, there was a chance she might make it on her own, but that chance was so infinitesimal, it might as well be certain death. If she stayed with Eddie, she'd die. Jenny didn't think she had the stomach to manipulate him more than she had, and for all she knew, he was going to realize what she'd been doing and kill her.

He was a killer, and he was going to kill her eventually. She'd only delayed it.

Jenny gulped and calmed herself down, glad that whatever Eddie was doing, it didn't involve finding out what she was cackling like a maniac. She was breaking down. Maybe she felt like she had it together, but she was wrong. She was losing it. The irony of losing her mind in an asylum ripped another sick giggle out of her, but she swallowed that, too, and took a seat on the floor, her eyes drifting back to the knife.

She was going to do whatever the fuck she had to in order to survive Eddie. Even if it made her as bad as the people that ran this place. Jenny was making an executive decision – her life over his. In the end, she was the only one who really had a say in her living or dying. She was going to live.

She was going to live no matter what.


	7. Chapter 7

Eddie let her change into her modified wedding dress in private, and this time, it stayed on without her having to hold it up. He picked her up by the waist and swung her around and they both laughed like a young couple in love, and Jenny crushed her disgust with herself down, down, as far as it would go. Down with her worry about the Walrider, down with her lingering fear of the monster that had tried to drown her. Down, down, down the aisle. There were patients tied to folding chairs. One was dead, his head lolling at an unnatural angle, and another was rocking and crying.

He looked at her with pleading eyes and she ignored him. She needed help, too. He would have to find a way to help himself, like she had. Maybe a less repugnant one than this.

The wedding was officiated by Eddie (who had a child's understanding of how a wedding was conducted) and overseen by a black and white photograph of some fat old white man that was probably the reason she was playing along with this farce. It looked familiar – she'd seen it before, attached to an article. Didn't matter. Nevermind, nevermind, down, down, down. It was time to kiss the bride and he tipped her back to kiss her, like that photo with the sailor and the nurse. His mouth was foul, his skin too warm and too soft in places, but she kissed him back.

One of the captives in the audience cheered. Eddie left them all bound to their chairs.

Eddie scooped her up and whisked her out of the room, and he looked nervous. Jenny smiled at him and started to undo his bowtie, kissing his jaw, wondering if her face was going to break out in those nasty hives soon. Didn't matter. Down, down, down a flight of stairs and into a storage area. There was a light further down the hall, dim but obvious since everything else was out, but he took her into another room and Jenny swallowed hard. He had pushed most of the boxes aside and set up a bed, two cots on a large wooden pallet to make a double bed. The sheets were the cleanest she'd seen since she'd woken up. There were even pillows, and some destitute weeds from outside in a vase. Eddie set her on the edge of the rickety homemade bed, and Jenny stayed put, looking up at him, watching as he fumbled uselessly with the buttons of his waistcoat. He didn't even manage one.

Jenny stood and gently pushed his hands away, undoing the buttons on his waistcoat and then moving to his shirt. He caught her hands to stop her, and the fear in his eyes jarred her from her fugue.

"_Don't_," he said, sounding breathless. Eddie already had an unhealthy pallor, but he looked especially pale, now. Goddammit. She'd actually talked herself into doing this, and now he was backing out?

"How else will we make babies, Eddie?" she tried to persist. He was nervous. Her fingers reached for the button, and he almost let her, but then seemed to remember how much stronger he was, and he shoved her down onto the bed.

"Don't! Don't _touch_ me! I don't _want_ to!" he screamed at her. He tried a few times to re-tie his bowtie, but he was too upset, and he yanked it off his collar with a snarl, "You can't make me if I don't want to! It isn't _right_! You... you were going to _make me_!"

"Eddie, no," Jenny scrambled back. He grabbed for her but now the bed was between them. She had whiplash from how quickly things had degenerated. What the fuck had happened!? "I thought you wanted—"

"I don't want it!" spittle flew out of his mouth and his voice cracked, he was so upset, "I didn't _ever_ want it! I just wanted you to love me!"

Jenny wasn't convinced he was talking to _her_ right now, but it didn't matter. She had pushed him too far.

"Eddie, calm down," she tried, circling in the opposite direction he was. If she could get her back to the door... what? She was relatively well rested, but she was running on a Snickers bar right now, or the fumes of a Snickers, and she wasn't entirely sure where she was. The stairwell was unlocked, she knew that much. She'd been too focused on Eddie, on being _convincing_, that she hadn't taken in many other details, "Let's talk about this. I _do_ love you. Until death do us part, remember? Remember when I said that?"

That gave him pause, and he stopped circling, but he didn't look convinced. His shoulders were heaving, his pupils tiny dots. What had they done to him? What was _she_ going to do?

"You're lying," he said, "You're a liar. You don't mean it."

"Eddie, I _do_ mean it," Jenny said, "We don't have to do it now. We can wait. We can wait until you're ready. I'm sorry I pushed you, you're right. That's not right. Nobody should be forced to do something they don't want."

She was hauling things out of her ass at an incredible rate right now, just rephrasing what he'd said and throwing it back at him. It had worked before. She didn't know if it would now.

"I want to believe you Jenny, but-!" he clutched his head and doubled over, making an awful noise. Jenny didn't know if it was a sob or a wail or what, but it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, "I have to kill _everyone_, don't you understand? For what you _did_! I can't let you live!"

"What did I do, Eddie?" Jenny asked. She wasn't convinced he was lucid right now, jumbling her up with something else. He wasn't a mind reader – he couldn't know what she'd been planning - but she may as well be lumped in with the other people who had abused him.

"_Vulgar_ things," Eddie said, "_Terrible_ things! I _can't_..."

She had her back to the door now. She could bolt. She could bolt if she needed to. What good it would do, she didn't know. Jenny doubted the power of her imaginary love was going to cure whatever deep seated trauma that had been inflicted on him, so a backup plan was better than nothing at all.

"Someone _else_ did those things, Eddie," she said, "Not me. I didn't. I love you. I would never hurt you. Never."

"_You_ tried to _make_ me-!"

"I was wrong to do that, Eddie," she said, "Has anyone else ever admitted that? That _they_ were wrong, and that _you_ were right?"

Eddie regarded her, reproachful and hopeful but still _hungry_. He shook his head, barely, but enough for her to see it.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked, "You never have to see me again, if you don't want, Eddie. It's your choice."

He tried to speak a few times, but his throat was closed up. He swallowed and tried to control his breathing, his hands clenching and unclenching. Someone had really done a number on this poor fucker. She had to stay focused, though. Jenny wasn't a psychiatrist – not that psychiatry had done Eddie any good. Whatever his malfunction was, it wasn't her problem. It was probably better she didn't know, anyway: it'd be easier to manipulate him if she knew what it was, exactly, that had fucked him up. She was already plenty grossed out by how much she'd been able to twist him up with so little information.

"I want to fill you up," he sounded plaintive now, like a child being threatened with the removal of his favourite toy, "To make you whole again!"

"What about you, Eddie?" she pressed, "What would make _you_ whole?"

That question threw him for a loop, and Jenny didn't think it was in a good way. She'd asked him a question he couldn't answer, and it was all over his face. She'd fucked up. She'd fucked up for the last time.

"Killing you."

"Eddie, if you kill me, I can't have your babies," she said, her muscles coiling, preparing to spring into action, "I can't be your darling if I'm dead."

"You aren't my darling," his attitude had turned on a dime, and the venom dripping from his words was unmistakable, "You're all the same, you ugly fucking sluts. Telling me what to _do_, what to _think_. You aren't in charge! _I'm_ the man! _I_ make the decisions! _I'm_ in control!"

"You are, Eddie. You're in control. You-"

"Shut up!" he said, "Shut up, _whore_! You'll hang with the rest of them! You aren't better than me! I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't _ever_forget! _I'm going to put you in your place!_"

He lunged at her and Jenny turned and ran. For an awful moment she thought he'd grabbed her hair, but it was just her veil, and it came off easily. Jenny tripped over the hem of her dress when she crossed the threshold and she gathered the extra fabric up. Stairs? No. Stairs in this fucking dress was a disaster waiting to happen. Down the hall, towards the light. There had to be a window. They were on the second floor, she was relatively sure of that, and she could... probably not break anything if she jumped. Two stories wasn't that high. She could do it. She could make it.

Jenny glanced over her shoulder. Eddie was giving chase, but he wasn't running. He was walking – quickly, but calmly, grim determination on his face. Whatever she'd thought she'd achieved was gone. She didn't think he faked it, but it certainly hadn't taken hold. She'd been right from the start: he was going to kill her. He just needed an excuse. And her being manipulative was, in the end, reason enough.

She jabbed the slightly ajar door under the light open with her elbow and stepped into another world, a world of strung-up, mutilated corpses. Some of them were women, yes, but some were _men_. Or they had been, before Eddie had... oh, _Jesus_. Jenny gagged and threw up on herself, still stumbling forward, unwilling to give up her momentum even now. _Hang with the rest of them_. Oh, Jesus, oh _fuck_.

Jenny headed for the window furthest away from the door, flinching when Eddie slammed the door all the way open.

"We could have been _beautiful_ together," Eddie said. His rage was almost tangible, and he was spitting the words at her, flinging them like knives, "But you ruined _everything_, you stupid, backtalking _slut_."

She tried the window. It creaked unhappily and the rusted hinges stuck. The space wasn't enough for her to squeeze through. Eddie was almost there.

"See? _Look_ at you, you lying _whore_," he hissed, raising his hands so he could grab her, "You'd rather jump out a window than be with me! All I wanted was to love you! To take care of you! And _this_ is the thanks I get!? _Ungrateful bitch!_"

Another yank, and metal screamed, and Jenny gave up trying to open it and instead tried to force herself out. It was slow going – too slow – and the fabric caught on the warped, splintered wood. No no no, she was _so close_. She was going to get away. Eddie grabbed a fistful of her dress and she shrieked, lashing out with her foot and catching him hard in the jaw. Hard enough to startle him back, to make him relinquish his grip. With another scream, Jenny threw her weight against the slim opening. She heard tearing and she felt something dig into her skin, and then she was falling. Eddie was shouting something at her, but she didn't hear it. The abrupt impact on the ground had knocked the wind out of her. Jenny didn't think she'd broken anything. She'd scratched herself up pretty bad, but she could feel the cool autumn breeze and the late afternoon sun on her skin.

Jenny rolled onto her back, looking up at the building, looking up at Eddie, who was glaring down at her with all the hate he had in him. If looks could kill, she'd be dead. But she _wasn't_ dead, was she? She was _alive_. She was alive, and he wasn't jumping down after her.

"You aren't even worth stringing up," he hissed at her, "Go spread your legs for all the others, you stupid slut. I don't need you!"

He withdrew into the building and Jenny started to laugh. She didn't like how it sounded, high pitched and desperate, like a crazy person laughing, but a laugh was a laugh, right? _She was alive_. She was in the courtyard, on the ground floor. She could still get out. She could make it.

When her laughter died down, she was suddenly surrounded by oppressive, terrifying silence. In a panic, Jenny got to her feet, hands shaking as she checked herself over. She'd cut herself badly, staining her dress bright red, but not bad enough to bleed to death, she didn't think. Her feet were unsteady and she kept tripping. Jenny felt adrift. There was no one to protect her, now. Just herself. Her lying whore self. _Jesus_, she'd been ready to fuck that guy just to feel safe. She was fucking _disappointed_ he'd turned on her, even though she'd known he was going to at some point.

She was going to need _extensive_ therapy when she got out.

Jenny made it across the courtyard after a short stop to rip up the bottom of the dress. She didn't even want to _know_ what sort of Miss Havisham-looking psycho she resembled right now. If she could find more scrubs, she'd change into them, but for now the dress would have to do. The first door she found had a sign informing her that reception was beyond. Reception, and hopefully the exit to the main building. She could get out. She was _so close_.

The lights were on in reception. She tried the phone and the computer at the desk, but got nothing. Ignoring her own weird, uncontrollable laughter, she looked at the fire evacuation plan for the building. She could get to the main building from here. Easily. There was a fire escape, too, but it required a key and Jenny wasn't going to fuck about looking for _keys_. She could do this. She had the route memorized, and she was going to walk right out the front door.

Jenny pulled open a door and froze. There was a man in full riot gear (and a few others behind him) there, and they had all frozen, too. She was staring down the barrel of a rifle. Jenny lifted her arms, wanting to hug the first sane people she'd seen in forever, but she was interrupted by a loud report. Then she was on her back, and things were fading away. It didn't hurt, she didn't think. If it did hurt, it didn't matter.

"What the fuck!" she heard someone shout, "What the _fuck_, they said there weren't any women here!"

"I thought she was trying to attack me! Oh, god, is she dead!?"

She turned her head towards one of the men crouching next to her. He felt her pulse, and she tried to raise a hand up to touch him, to see if he was real, but she didn't have the strength.

"She will be soon. Jesus, Carter, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Look at her, man! She looks nuts! Like one of them! You heard that laughing, same as I did! Jeez, she's still _smiling_!"

"Hey," the man crouched next to her slapped her cheek, trying to keep her with him. Jenny didn't think she wanted to be anywhere, anymore, "Hey, stay with me, honey. What the fuck are you all standing around for? You, radio the medical team. And the rest of you fan out! This building is unsecured!"

Jenny tried to laugh, but instead of making a sound, she gurgled. She felt something wet and warm on her lips. She tasted blood.

"Ahhh, fuck," her would-be rescuer muttered, trying to put pressure over her gunshot wound, "She's bleeding out."

"_Shh_, quiet."

"What?"

"_Quiet_," there was silence, "Do you hear that?"

"Hear _what_?"

A door burst open and there was screaming. So much _screaming_. They all opened fire, even the man next to her, and the roar of their weapons was deafening. That was all right. Just fine, nevermind. She was dying now, but she was okay with it this time. It was okay. Down, down...

As quickly as the gunfire had started, it was over, and heavy footsteps tromped over to her. The monsters mangled face pressed close to hers, sniffing her, and he let out a disgusted, disappointed grunt.

"Fuck," he said, positioning a boot against her head, turning it until she was looking at the man who had shot her. His eyes were wide and terrified, staring at nothing. There was pressure, _incredible_ pressure on her skull, and then nothing.

Chris walked back a step to admire his handiwork, idly wiping his boot on the carpeting to get most of the gore off of it. Her head wasn't worth keeping, the stupid cunt. He'd had other plans for her, but 'security' had beat him to it. Oh well. He'd finished her off, at least. How'd she gotten away from Gluskin? Left him crying at the altar, maybe. That guy was such a ridiculous fucking _pussy_, but he wasn't worth his time. There would be more 'security' in the main building, more people for him to kill. They weren't very good at their jobs, and Chris had been doing a perfectly good job anyway. He didn't need them interfering.

He could contain this situation on his own.

Taking a few minutes to arrange her (mostly) headless corpse in a vulgar position at reception, Chris left. Gluskin could have this ward. Chris had more important, more _worthwhile_ things to do.


End file.
